


Kinktober 2017: Week Two

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Kinktober 2017 [2]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Dubious Consent, Edging, Gun Kink, Latex, Lingerie, M/M, Medical Kink, Sadism, Sibling Incest, Tentacles, fuck machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: A place for all the Kinktober prompts days 8-14!





	1. Day 8: Latex, Rhack

**Author's Note:**

> Just something from an AU where Rhys is a terrible spy, haha. :)

In retrospect, Rhys should have probably taken his new bodysuit on a test run first. At leas then he wouldn’t be gasping for pained breaths on the fancy, glossy floor of the most dangerous place he could probably be—Handsome Jack’s private complex.

He’d gotten dizzy suddenly during the course of his snooping, the tight latex of his bodysuit constricting unexpectedly around his ribs. He’d winced, trying to push forward and stay quiet until he’d doubled over in pain, unable to take another step further. He’d tried to crawl away or grab for his gun when he heard measure, clicking steps from behind him, but before he could turn around a heavy, booted foot pressed on his lower back.

“Jeez, this is _pathetic_ ,” Jack tutted, shaking his head as Rhys wheezed out a breath. “And you were doing _so_ well, too. I mean, my systems were able to detect you the second you entered my building, but still. I was gonna let you get a little bit farther before I brought out the big guns.”

Rhys whined, pained tears brimming in the corners of his eyes as he struggled to look over his shoulder. Jack’s heavy boot could probably end him in this state—Rhys felt like if he was stomped or kicked in the ribs he would just collapse like a house of cards. But Jack was being…unusually light in his touch, his boot enough to keep Rhys in place but lacking his full, brutal weight.

“Is it this thing that’s bothering you? Wow, kitten. Maybe you should’ve tested this out beforehand?” Jack laughed, gesturing at Rhys’ tight bodysuit. The spy swallowed uncomfortably, his heart still beating painfully in his chest. Jack shook his head, crouching over the young man’s body.

“This is a pretty lame way to go out. Strangled by your own fashion statement. So I’ll tell you what.”

Rhys shivered at the sleek, metallic sound of a switchblade.

“I’ll help ya out.”

Rhys twitched as Jack pinched some of the tight fabric between his shoulder blades, the tip of his pocket knife poking deftly through it. The young man’s skin quivered as Jack trailed the blade slowly down his spine, the sound of slitting fabric the only thing filling the still air of the complex aside from Rhys’ own panting and Jack’s approving hums.

Rhys could feel more cool air kiss his skin as Jack peeled apart the now slack fabric of his bodysuit, opening him up like a flayed animal as he cut all the way down to Rhys’ hips. The constricting pain in Rhys’ ribs was replaced by a flighty, tight feeling in his belly as Jack dug into the latex again, slicing a long, vertical line along the crack of Rhys’ pert ass.

Rhys moaned, voice still hoarse. He could do little more than lay there and pant, watching Jack from other his shoulder as the super villain slid his thick fingers in between Rhys’ tight cheeks, tip pressing right up against the young man’s hole. Jack probed around a bit, before pulling away his hands and grabbing a slim, black bottle from his pocket.

“You’re already pretty wound up. Don’t wanna break you by going in dry.” The bottle made an unpleasant noise as Jack slicked up his palm, leering down at his helpless prey.

Rhys didn’t want to think about the fact that Jack had lube on him, and what that probably said about his reputation as a spy.


	2. Day 8: Roleplay, Face-Sitting, Rhack

“You’ve gotten better at showing proper respect to your queen,” Rhys purred, reaching down to run his gloved fingers through Jack’s tousled hair. The omega shuddered as Jack tried to respond, his voice nothing but vibrations humming through the wet crease between his asscheeks.

“I think I like you better when your mouth is _occupied_ , drone.” The omega rolled his hips as he felt Jack’s tongue thrust up inside of him, lapping dutifully at the slick practically drowning him.The dainty little glass tiara Rhys had placed atop his auburn waves was now off-center, knocked askew as he rode atop Jack’s face, his stiff cock poking up through the silky, goldenrod costume robes that draped off his sweating form. He could see the moist smear of his cum through the fabric, eventually pulling it up and over his hips with one hand so he could properly see Jack’s face.

The older man was staring right up at him, eyes cloudy with lust. His hair fanned out, sweaty and peppered with shed glitter from Rhys’ costume against the silky pillow below him. His mask was off, completely bare and subservient—here only to please his queen.

Rhys rode Jack’s face with increased abandon, tossing his head back with a melodic moan as his cock jerked, splashing cum against his silky robes as he felt a hot wave of slick gush out all over Jack’s mouth, dripping out from between his lips as he hungrily licked and kissed Rhys through his orgasm. Rhys felt his spine go to jelly, satisfied purrs rolling through his chest as he gradually slid off of Jack, smiling down at the man’s slick-covered, bright red face.

“Such loyalty should be…should be well-rewarded…” Rhys pushed his little crown back on his head, tapping Jack’s nose as he moved off of him, relaxing on his back with his legs open. Jack practically hopped up on his knees, crawling forward. His cock hung heavy between his legs, despite the bright gold ring slid snugly over his balls. Rhys kissed him, fingers trailing against his shaft, touching the warm metal.

“Make me come again, drone, and I’ll take this off.”


	3. Day 9: Asphyxiation, Frotting, Rhack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubcon warning!

When the very same type of metallic restraints that had wrapped around his wrists snaked out and curled around his neck, holding him tight against the chair, Rhys was convinced that he was about to die. He choked and sputtered as the cold steel around his throat began to tighten, his wrists jerking against their own restraints in abortive desperation.

“ _Easy_ , pumpkin, _easy_ ,” Jack’s crackling voice sounded around him, a split second before the A.I.’s acid-blue hologram fluttered into shape in front of him—no, almost _inside_ of him, the man’s thighs clipping through his own as he stood in the middle of the chair Rhys was bound to. The young man let out a choked cough, eyes watering as he looked up at Jack’s smug expression. It glitched with a sleazy smile.

“Aww, don’t you cry now, sweetheart. Here, let daddy relax you a ‘lil bit,” Jack snapped his fingers, and suddenly prickly warmth flooded Rhys’ body, his heart rate rushing with pleasure. Even the pressure around his neck melted into the feelings of arousal, his tighter and harsher breathing only building the tingling stiffness in his crotch.

It took him awhile to notice the A.I. moving thanks to the spots popping in his vision. He was grinding his hips forward— _into_ Rhys’ physical body, and if Rhys was of sounder mind he would have laughed and called Jack dumb because he wasn’t real and couldn’t touch Rhys if he wanted to. And yet the tingling in his hardening cock felt amplified every time Jack rutted forward. It could very well be the drugs, or the restricted breathing, or the power of his own now uninhibited fantasy, but whatever it was it busted down any walls of self-respect he might still have until he was crying out against the rasp of his own throat, soaking his underwear with cum as the clasp around his neck released with the same sudden orgasm. 


	4. Day 9: Lingerie, Rhack

Jack preferred Rhys in yellow lingerie.

He argued that it contrasted nicely with Rhys’ tattoos and looked great against his skin, but Rhys was mostly convinced Jack just got off on seeing him splashed with Hyperion colors. Rhys himself far preferred blues—from turquoise to navy—liking the way it made his ECHOeye pop and complemented the deep butter yellow metal of his arm. But well…while Jack didn’t _dislike_ it—he liked just about everything that Rhys wore—the young man knew Jack heavily preferred to see him decked out in his favorite color.

Rhys had thought that he had finally come up with an adequate compromise, but when Jack came home that night and saw him laying out on the bed in his new negligee, he burst out laughing.

“Rhys…oh wow…what are you _wearing_?”

“What? What’s wrong with it?” An annoyed pout immediately took shape on Rhys’ lips, scowling at his snickering boyfriend as he stood up on his knees, hands on his hips. The bright, lime green lingerie was tight across his chest and hips, gauzy sparkly organza fluttering down from the bodice and showing off his taunt middle. He thought he’d looked….well, _pretty_ decent. Not enough for Jack to be laughing at him at least!

“Oh, oh _sweetheart_ , green is just…really… _not_ your color…” Jack shook his head, walking over and picking at the hem of the negligee, rubbing the fabric between his fingers. Rhys grunted in annoyance, yanking the fabric away from Jack’s amused touch.

“You…s-shut up, okay? I _thought_ you might like it.” Rhys looked down at himself. Okay, so maybe it kind of clashed with his bright yellow arm and inky blue tattoos. He’d been so set on a _literal_ compromise that….maybe he hadn’t thought this all the way through.

“Haha…oh, seriously kiddo you look like….you look like some kind of big weird alien plant.” Rhys blushed, embarrassed red undoubtedly adding more dissonance to his current look. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, looking stubbornly away from Jack.

“Says you. At the very least I’m like….the _king_ of the alien plants,” he growled out. Jack stayed mostly quiet, little huffed chuckles leaving his lips.

“Maybe….maybe I’ve even _caught_ the handsome, pioneering CEO who has dared to invade my territory,” Rhys lowered his voice, eyes returning slyly to look up at Jack. A questioning look was quickly replaced with one of lust as Jack’s eyebrows quirked, his gleaming teeth showing off as he crawled onto the bed. Rhys met him halfway, quickly straddling his boyfriend’s lap, leafy green fabric fluttering around him as he pressed their bodies together.

“Maybe I’ve decided to _keep_ you. Make you apart of my…my…garden?”

Jack snickered.

“Garden huh? What is it, some kind of….sex garden?”

“Yes. I’m going to keep you in my sex garden and you’re going to help me _pollinate_.”

“Gross,” Jack murmured as Rhys rubbed his cock against the growing bulge in Rhys’ pants, “but kinky. All right, Plant King, how’s about you show me all the wonders of your sex garden?”

Rhys grinned, heart giddy at the ridiculousness of their sudden role-play. He nudged their noses together, already getting happy and hard again despite the previous setback.

“With pleasure.”


	5. Day 10: Edging, Fuck Machine, Rhack

Fundamentally, Jack was still an A.I.

His new body was cloned flesh, sure, but it had been outfitted with a complex nerve system that ran all the way up to the fancy, _unimaginably_ expensive cybernetic brain that currently housed his consciousness. He functioned just as an normal human would, with the added bonus of still being able to download and transfer his consciousness into any functional bit of technology that he desired.

And the sleek, intimidating machine that Rhys was currently strapped into was _certainly_ enticing.

Rhys had already been bound to the chrome frame, black leather seats cushioning his back and ass, holding the latter up at a comfortable angle. His long legs had been spread wide in stirrups, half bent at the knee. Jack had already prepped him, fingering the young man’s entrance open with slick digits as he worked through last minute calibrations on the prototype. The thick, yellow silicone head of the dildo piston rested static a mere inch away from Rhys’ slick hole as the CEO came to stand by the young man’s head. Jack pet his hair with a smile, guiding the machine’s remote drive into the port on Rhys’ temple. His vitals immediately flashed on one of the displays—heart rate, blood pressure, brain activity—and Rhys tensed briefly, before relaxing back against the cushions. Jack stroked down Rhys’ face, smiling when he kissed his fingers.

He eased the dildo in slowly at first, starting up the machine at a gradual pace to get Rhys used to its mechanical rhythm. Rhys fussed a little at first from the stretch, but was soon panting lightly, hips sliding as much as they could back against the silicone cock inside of him.

Jack acted briskly, eager to bring his plan to fruition before Rhys’ arousal built too high. He circled around to the main console, grabbing the input jack and shoving it into the port beneath his left ear.

* * *

“J-Jack?” Rhys moaned, craning his head up as he heard something heavy _thump_ besides the machine. He saw a limp hand on the floor a brief second before something prickling and warm surged out through the drive in his port, making his body tremble and jerk in arousal.

“A-Ah!” Rhys cried as the pace of the dildo suddenly changed, far less measured and practical than it had been mere seconds before. Now it pushed in and out of him erratically, each thrust different, some harder and quicker and others slower and softer. Confused need flooded him up to the point where his vision started to flicker in a bright blue glitch until the broken polygons consolidated into Jack’s grinning face. The familiar blue hologram hovered above Rhys, positioned like Jack often was when mounted atop him.

“Really something, isn’t it? I can control the machine _and_ make you see things. ” Jack’s transparent hips started to rock in time with the thrusts of the machine’s dildo. Rhys gasped as it shoved in deeper than before, only to retreat in an agonizingly slow crawl back out of his body.

“ _Nnngh…_ Jack, no fair…”

“Heh. You thought it was gonna be easy, huh pumpkin?” Jack’s grin was sparkling, lecherous. “Figured you’d just be strapped in and jackhammered until you came? Pfft. Where’s the fun in that?”

The machine’s cock-head was now _barely_ inside of Rhys, his hole just slightly stretched and puffy around the very tip. Rhys whimpered, restrained hips trying desperately to rut downwards, only for Jack to cruelly yank the dildo completely away. His whine broke in a desperate cry, cock stuck straight up in the air and painfully stiff.

“J- _Jerk_ , I hope you bruised your body when you jacked in,” Rhys grunted, biting his lip. His vitals were thumping, stressed from the denial of his need. The holographic Jack rubbed his chin, putting on a big show of indecision as Rhys started up at him with watery eyes.

“ _Hhhh_ ….f-for crying out loud, Jack, _c’mon!_ ”

“Nuh-uh-uh, kiddo. You’re gonna have to do better than that.” The dildo rubbed up against the outside of Rhys’ hole in shallow little twitches. A rapid buzzing suddenly filled the air as Jack tapped into the machine’s vibration function, making Rhys’ voice warble with desperation. The young man closed his eyes tightly, gasping.

“ _Please_ , Jack, _please,_ fuck me, please, I need to come, I need to—“

Any further pleas were cut off in a triumphant cry as Jack finally plunged the silicone cock back into Rhys’ willing body. 


	6. Day 10: Gunplay, Rhysquez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dubcon warning!

Vasquez owned some Hyperion guns, sure.

He had to remain on brand, after all, and consistent purchases of Hyperion weaponry definitely curried the favor of higher ups when they were looking to hand out juicy projects and promotions. Shotguns were his favorite make—heavy in his hand, with enough kickback to make him feel like he was a real badass, blasting bandit heads away down on Pandora.

But behind the sleek corporate veneer he put on was the core of a far more salt-of-the-earth hobbyist—at least that’s what he said to himself whenever he opened the velvet-lined container where his pristine, vintage Jakobs pistol lay cradled.

He’d bought it from a rare arms dealer after his latest promotion to reward all his hard work and careful planning. He owned several Jakobs guns already but nothing as valuable as the long-barreled pistol that he lifted gingerly to glint up in the amber light of his bedroom. Even with his new salary he’d had to sacrifice a month’s prescription of hair tonic, but every time Vasquez lifts that beautiful, rare gun out from its lacquered box he knows it’s worth a briefly thinning scalp.

“You’ve never seen a gun like this, Rhysie,” he speaks to the man bound to his bed. Vasquez is still in his pants and dress shirt, while Rhys is completely naked and blindfolded with the gold fabric of Vasquez’s tie. The older man smirks at Rhys’ quiet moans as he kisses the bronze tip of the barrel, before straddling Rhys’ hips. He draws the gun up the quivering muscles in the young man’s stomach, dipping the cool tip into Rhys’ belly button until he throws back his head and whines at the stillness. Chuckling, Vasquez moves the gun up Rhys’ chest, pressing the muzzle around one stiff nipple.

“This is going to be the most expensive thing you’ve ever had in your mouth, aside from my dick,” Vasquez snickers at Rhys’ perfect, gasping lips as he trails the gun up to the young man’s chin. Rhys licks it submissively, like a puppy. Vasquez smirks.

The pistol hadn’t been the only thing he’d bought after the promotion.


	7. Day 11: Sadism/Masochism, Orgasm Denial, Rhackothy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Omegaverse, mpreg, and dubcon warning! Part of the bad bad AU on tumblr.

“Oh come on, this is _pathetic_.”

Tim pants hoarsely, frustrated tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as Jack berates him. He tries his best to keep thrusting, despite the tension twisting in his belly and the burning, painful pressure in his cock. His chest is trembling, entire body shaking with unshed arousal as he tries his best to fuck up into his mate.

Rhys looks gorgeous. He always does, even when he’s crying or falling apart with worry. His hair is down, little auburn strands plastered against his warm forehead. His pale skin is flushed bright pink in certain areas, specifically his cheeks, nipples, belly button, and on the tip of the cute little cock that bobs and dribbles every time Tim ruts uselessly up into him.

Rhys looks so gorgeous, and Tim wants so badly to hold him in his arms, to properly _please_ him and make him cry out and beg like he used to whenever they made love in their own bed, but now there’s ropes tying his arms behind his back and a golden cage crushed mercilessly around his knot.

Every time blood starts to swell up his shaft he’s greeted with constricting pain as the various metal rings bite hard into his skin. He’s aroused enough that the cage can’t slide off but the pain forces his knot back every time it tries to follow nature and plug up Rhys’ willing body. Tim’s teeth grind in frustration, tears spilling down his hot cheeks as he thrusts stupidly up into Rhys, again and again, as if expecting a different result asides from more pain and humiliation.

“Forget it, Timmy,” comes Jack’s growl as he slips out of the shadows behind Rhys, possessive hand sliding around the omega’s puffy belly as the other grabs at the base of Tim’s restrained cock and practically pulls Rhys off of it. The omega cries out at the emptiness as slick drips heavy between his thighs, but his voice pitches in a keen of pleasure as Jack shoves his fat cock up into him. The alpha instantly slides in up to the hilt, hands shifting greedily along Rhys’ body as he humps into the helpless young man from behind. Tim sobs softly, eyes wide and wet as he watches Jack fuck his mate hard. Rhys’ lips fall slack, eyes practically rolling back into his head as the CEO roughly thrusts in and out of him. Jack watches Timothy over Rhys’ shoulder with malevolent eyes, his hand sliding down the soft curve of Rhys’ belly to grab the omega’s cock.

“You’re nothing, kiddo. You can’t even knot your own frikkin’ omega,” Jack licked up Rhys’ throat, biting into the slick skin. Rhys shivers, clenching around Jack’s cock, and the alpha smirks.

“Heh. All these years, and he’s been _wasted_ on you.”

Tim watches until Jack shoves the forceful knot deep inside of his mate’s body, and then closes his eyes and sobs through the agony of his need.


	8. Day 11: Gags, Jackothy

“Don’t look at me like that, okay?” Tim countered as Jack glared silently at him. The CEO had been bound with pretty, bright yellow ropes and left on the couch. Usually, Tim would probablybe on the receiving end of a litany of complaints, but he’d nipped that in the bud and buckled a ball gag into his boss’s mouth as soon as he’d wrangled him down onto the couch.

“This is for your own good, anyway. We don’t want a repeat of the last time you came home all pissed…we _just_ got the new coffee table.” Tim pointed to the shiny, glass-top table just inches from Jack’s wriggling, bound body. Muffled protests squeezed around the gag as Tim came to sit on the slight space of couch near Jack’s hip. He brushed away the hem of his shirt, tucking it under one of the tight ropes so he could have better access to Jack’s soft, quivering stomach. He pet it softly, like he was calming the hackles of an angry cat. He watched with a steady smile as Jack began to relax against his will, eyebrows flickering in the last vestiges of anger as the muscles in his face grew slack.

“There we go. It’s a lot easier to calm down when you aren’t screaming bloody murder, right?” Tim soothed, his fingers stroking down the little patch of hair leading below Jack’s waistband. He played with the buckle of Jack’s belt, flipping it open. He turned around, getting up on his knees above Jack, his hand popping open his pants and dipping between his boss’s fly. He kissed Jack twice— underneath the eye and just above where the binding of the gag dug into his cheek—as his other palm rubbed over the older man’s chest, plucking at one of the tight ropes like a harp string and drawing from Jack’s muffled lips a moan as pretty as a music note. 


	9. Day 12: Master/Slave, Handjobs, Tentacles, Rhack, Jacksquez

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oviposition warning!

“You boys are pretty big fans, aren’t ya?” Jack snickered as he crouched between the two men. His greedy eyes roamed appreciatively over their bound forms, watching as the ruddy tentacles of the monster behind them wound over their hips and legs. Jack stroked the hinge on his chin, toothy grin practically hurting his cheeks as he watched his two little captives wriggle and moan.

“I’m itching to see who is the _bigger_ fan, though, so we’re gonna have a little contest,” Jack purred, loving the way those tentacles left trails of slime over the bodies of the two men. He watched the tendrils wind around their cocks, rubbing up and down with curious strokes and making them sob and rut helplessly forward.

“See, my little girl here really needs to _breed_. And I can’t be laid up—haha—for that long. Being CEO and all that junk. I don’t have the time. So why not let my two biggest fans do their master a favor?”

He was pleased with the fanboys he’d snared for this particular experiment. One of them was pretty big and hairy, with soft but strong muscles showing in his arms and shoulders and a nice, stout stomach that seemed pretty roomy. But the other guy, small and skinny as he was, had a look of steely determination in his eyes that persisted even as the tentacles pushed their way inside his ass. He could very well pull off an upset.

Jack reached forward, grasping their chins with each hand and lifting their gazes up to meet his. Despite the tentacles jerking them off, shoving inside of them, they still looked at Jack with eagerness and adoration, and that made his own boner pop up in his pants.

“Whoever can take the most eggs from my little girl here gets to belong to daddy as a reward. Sounds good?"

The big guy nodded with a slack smile, sweat beading into his beard. The twink merely moaned, lips open in an obscene pink “O” as the tentacles twisted deeper into his belly.

Jack laughed.

“You sick little freaks.”

* * *

He’d been right about the little one.

The hairy guy was a lot bigger and bulkier, and Assmaster had been able to pack a whole lot of eggs into that bulging, corporate-soft belly of his, but Jack could tell early on he wasn’t used to having anything jammed up his ass for an extended amount of time. Jack watched with a sick smile, hand palming his own cock, as the guy’s breathing grew heavier, sweat glistening over his entire burly body, muscles trembling as if they were about to snap. He didn’t last much longer, eventually sobbing openly and looking up at Jack with wide, red-rimmed eyes.

“Please, please sir, _please_ let me go, I….I can’t…” he cried out, before dissolving into shaking tears. Jack couldn’t say he was that disappointed, because he’d kind of been rooting for the skinny kid the whole time. What could he say? The guy was more his type, all pretty skin and sweet tattoos and long, shapely legs.

And the kid could take a _lot_ of punishment. He kept going long after Jack had dislodged the hairy guy from the grasp of Assmaster’s slick tentacles and sent him off with a towel around his waist and crumpled clothing in his arms, and had even welcomed the tendrils that had been previously buried inside his former opponent with a heavy moan. He put on quite the show for the horny CEO, who quickly found himself jerking his cock through another orgasm at the sight of the kid’s stomach growing fuller and fuller with the throbbing clutch.

“Son of a taint, kiddo, you’re a real trooper ain’t ya?” Jack lauded when Assmaster finally finished, spurting one final gush of sealing fluid inside of the kid before unwinding her tentacles from around his bloated body. Jack got on his knees, rolling the kid onto his side and smirking at the lumpy, swollen state of his stomach, so full of Assmaster’s clutch that he wondered if he could even stand.

“What’s your name again? Sorry, I was so busy jerking it to your hot little moans that I forgot.” Jack patted the kids cheek, grinning as he nuzzled weakly into his palm.

“It’s Rhys,” the kid croaked, eyes fluttering open as a devious little smile flickered on his lips, “so I won?”

Jack laughed, patting the bulging surface of the kid’s abdomen.

“I’ll say. Now c’mon, pumpkin, lets get those things outta ya so daddy can _properly_ reward his new little breeding slut.”


	10. Day 13: Medical Play, Rimming, Rhack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omegaverse and referenced mpreg warning!

“Oh doctor, please, tell me it’s good news!” Rhys cried, perhaps a little too dramatically, but Jack’s boner never flagged and that’s what really mattered.

Not that he could dream of growing flaccid when Rhys looked the way he did. Reclined back in a hospital bed with one of those cheap, toothpaste-blue hospital gowns pushed up all the way over his hips and his long, sexy legs bent in anticipation of the slick metal stirrups branching off from the bed. Jack could see the prickle of goosebumps all along the skin of his thighs, the contrast between the heat of arousal and the cold, circulated air of the room evident in his shivering flesh.

Jack hummed, pressing fingers into the soft flesh of Rhys’ belly, making the omega twitch. He slid the smooth latex over the young man’s abdomen, palpating lightly and watching the slight ripple of chub in his mate’s stomach.

“Your lab results indicate there’s no reason for you not to be knocked u— _uh_ , pregnant, Mr. Somerset.” Jack tried to sound more clinical even as he trailed his fingers sensually down Rhys’ bare stomach, settling both hands on the young man’s thighs. “Wouldn’t hurt to take a _closer_ look, though.”

Rhys squirmed happily as Jack lifted his ankles up into the stirrups, the change in position showing off the omega’s cute little ass. The room’s cold lighting glistened sharply off the little bit of slick seeping out of his hole. Jack licked his lips as he carefully inserted the tip of his gloved finger into Rhys’ ass.

“I prefer a more…hands on approach…you see..” Jack growled as he pushed in further, finger sliding in easily with the amount of slick dripping out of the omega’s hole. A wonderful, musky smell drifted up to his nose, sending his alpha instincts aflame. He pressed a button on the bed, holding it until Rhys’ form had risen almost level with his chest. Jack crouched slightly, hands bracing on the underside of Rhys’ thighs as he put his face right up next to the young man’s hole.

“D-Doctor? What are you— _ah_!” Rhys whined as Jack’s tongue pressed right up against his hole. His finger pulled wider, allowing his tongue more access as it wiggled inside. Rhys cock stiffened, poking up the hem of his hospital gown as he shifted his ass down against Jack’s mouth.

“Heh…test complete, Mr. Somerset.” Jack grins as he straightens up, wiping his hand over his mouth and lapping at the slick sticking to the latex. “From what I can tell there is…no issues with your fertility.”

Jack’s hands grasped Rhys’ hips, pulling the young omega’s ass closing to the edge of the table. Rhys licked his lips, glancing down between his legs as Jack undid his pants and yanked out his cock. He gave it a squeeze, the bright teal latex squeaking against his throbbing shaft.

“Let’s see if I can’t help you out there, huh?”


	11. Day 13: Titfucking, DigiRhack

Rhys didn’t know if Jack was watching this time.

He must be, somewhere, because the DigiJacks couldn’t be summoned without him—unless they had figured out a way to activate _themselves_ , which should have been a troubling thought but it’s hard to care when he’s sitting atop one of their massive bodies while the other rolls slowly into him from behind.

It’s been hard to get use to the transparent solidity of the holograms, and he still can’t quell the little catch in his heart every time he rocks forward from his place seated on the DigiJack’s chest. It helps to have huge hands wrapped around his waist and hips, though, holding him securely as his skin tickles with their alien warmth.

“ ** _That’s it, Rhysie, just relax_** ,” the DigiJack below him purrs as Rhys ruts his cock between their massive pecs. They seem bigger than last time, plumped out with more muscle and providing a neat little valley for the skinny shaft of his dick to slide between. The jittery orange of badass hologram’s skin warms pleasantly along Rhys’ member, enveloping it as if this were its designed function, which seems like something Jack would crow about slipping into their code—and if Jack had planned this and was watching, he would’ve surely broken his silence by now, so what’s going on, had the Digis really—

His train of thought is cut off by a particularly rough thrust from behind. He squeals as he’s shifted forward, cock pushed forward between the meaty sandwich of the Digijack’s pecs. Rhys wriggles breathlessly in their grasp, assailed by shimmering warmth inside him and enveloped around his groin. The thrusts behind him are speeding up, jostling him atop the DigiJack’s torso until his belly tightens and he comes, spurting white all over the tangerine glass of the hologram’s bulging, bare chest.

The DigiJack’s aren’t capable of coming yet, which leaves Rhys feeling a little guilty as he relaxes in their arms, but the amount of kissing and humming, appreciative words that he’s showered with eases away any bad feeling and leaves him feeling happy and light as he nuzzles against one pair of large, soft pecs, and falls asleep.


	12. Day 14: Sensory Deprivation, Role Reversal, Rhack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omegaverse warning!

“Shhh, omega, no need to cry out,” Rhys soothed as he sat stop Jack’s torso, rubbing his slim hands all over the blindfolded alpha’s quivering chest. Jack shuddered, teeth biting into the black bit in his mouth, slicking up the leather with warm saliva. He moaned softly as Rhys started to rub his nipples, making them stiffen and tingle in the intimate air between them. Rhys cooed mindless little words to Jack as he scooted further along Jack’s torso, smiling down at the alpha’s flushed, pink cheeks.

He arms were bound behind his back, leather earmuffs nestled snugly on both sides of his head. He couldbarely hear anything so, really, the role-play was more for Rhys than his mate, but that didn’t mean Rhys wasn’t going to milk it for all it was worth.

“You like it, don’t you, omega? When your alpha ties you up, makes you helpless before him?” Rhys growled as he tweaked Jack’s left nipple. The alpha’s lip curled, showing off his long canines as he writhed back against his bed. Rhys sat firm, still, until Jack stopped bucking, his chest steadily returning to soft, lulled movement.

“Are you already slick? You must be….bound like this…whimpering in need…” Rhys purred as he carefully turned about atop his mate, his own cock grinding down against Jack’s trembling belly as he peered between the alpha’s legs, beneath the throbbing cock bound with a tight golden ring and towards the gentle buzzing of the vibrator jammed inside of the alpha’s tight hole.

Rhys whistled appreciatively, prodding at the toy’s protruding end. Jack’s cock twitched in response, right before the omega’s hungry eyes.

“Guess you deserve a treat, huh?” Rhys glanced back over his shoulder towards his alpha’s flushed face, before giving the head of his cock a hearty lick.


	13. Day 14: Incest, Jackothy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sibling incest warning! Part of a corporate AU I've written before but not posted on ao3 yet.

Jack always ensures that the annual Halloween party is a decadent affair—and that his and Tim’s costumes match.

This year, they are as extravagant and elaborate as ever. Jack looks like an emperor in a heavy, black cape lined with mink fur, torso sheathed in a designer tailcoat patterned with white and grey spades and adorned with accents of pure gold. Tim’s cape is shorter, cut off at his waist, and bright blood red, embroidered with bronze and silver that matches the lapels on his snow-white suit.

The both of them wear masks. Jack seems to enjoy the way people can’t tell them apart as soon as they cover up their faces.

In the blur of alcohol and costumes and morbid delights, it’s difficult to tell who is who.

By the time Tim drags Jack into the bathroom, the familiar haunt of their misdeeds, he’s not even sure who is wearing red and who is wearing black, or who is wearing the king’s crown Jack had placed gingerly atop his head—or Tim’s head, whoever’s head, the exact nature of identity fades away into the burning heat in his stomach as he shoves his way inside of Jack’s panting body, ripping away the velvety red of a discarded cape to dig his teeth into his brother’s pulsing through. His teeth pierce through Jack’s skin as they come together, leaving two solid pinpricks of blood dripping down the side of his brother’s neck.

Jack laughs through his breathing, pulling his mask into place before pressing a gloved palm against his neck. The black fabric comes away glistening, moist with invisible blood.

“Heh….you…were a vampire _last year_ , Timmy,” Jack jokes with a small smile, before nuzzling comfortably back into his brother’s embrace. 


End file.
